<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>never apart (yet you break my heart) by absolutelyamethyst</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401935">never apart (yet you break my heart)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutelyamethyst/pseuds/absolutelyamethyst'>absolutelyamethyst</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Eclipse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Z-O-M-B-I-E-S (Disney Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AKA the story of how willa became alpha, Angst and Feels, Gen, and to get back into writing willa and wyatt, background on the pack and willa and wyatt's parents, brief mentions of blood but nothing graphic, i wrote it mostly for the worldbuilding, not super plotty, prelude to zombies 2, so don't go into this expecting a super great plot because...there isn't one?, wyatt-centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:20:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutelyamethyst/pseuds/absolutelyamethyst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wyatt and Willa.<br/>Willa and Wyatt.<br/>From the beginning, it's always the two of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Willa Lykensen &amp; Wyatt Lykensen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Eclipse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One: Daughter, Son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lykenbean/gifts">lykenbean</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>holy whoa. I set out to write this knowing my goal was high, but 8k? That's A LOT of words for this little writer and man am I proud of each and every one. This fic might be my new fave of mine. I just</p>
<p>anyway</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Her children are the hope that the pack needs--that she needs. <br/>But Winry can't protect them from everything.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the beginning, it’s always the two of them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And it’s funny, because from the moment she finds out she’s pregnant Winry is worried her babies wouldn’t get along. They’re twins, they’ll be together a lot, but she’s wise enough to know that just because siblings are siblings doesn’t mean they’ll be best of friends. </p>
<p>That’s all she wants, though- to know that at the end of the day, if there’s ever a moment when she can’t be with them, they’ll have each other. <em> That’s </em>how they’ll survive what’s coming. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She watches the pack grow. </p>
<p>The den, once a quiet space, grows loud with the sounds of screaming were-pups and shrieking mothers and even as she struggles to nap through all the noise she’s happy, because life is light and the den is dark around them, around the elders and her husband. </p>
<p>The weight of the missing moonstone is heavier than it’s ever been, and Walt feels it--blames himself, however wrongly--and with his despair the rest of the pack grows restless, uneasy. Time is running out for some of them, but not all. The big, happy pack, filled with all of their loved ones, is about to undergo a massive change. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Except it happens slowly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Winry isn’t a nurse or anything of the sort, but she’s well-versed in dressing wounds and bandaging stray scrapes. </p>
<p>The problem with the necklaces losing their charge is that there’s nothing to fix on the outside- no bleeding wounds, no apparent illness. The weakness that plagues the older wolves isn’t even always there. It comes at random moments, sweeps away every breath and whatever strength remains inside, sends the wolf to the ground, wheezing, their faces turning ashy and pale as they struggle to bring in air. </p>
<p><em> There’s nothing she can do. </em>Their infirmary is full in a matter of weeks, every bed taken as she, along with her fellow wolves, struggle to find a place for every wolf effected. </p>
<p>And it doesn’t matter that she’s weeks away from giving birth, that getting down on the ground in order to help her packmates stand takes her longer than anyone else. What matters is that someone is there to help. What matters is that someone is there. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Walt is the alpha. </p>
<p>Things get worse and Winry doesn’t see him much, especially after their packmates start to fade completely. </p>
<p>Winry is...familiar with the pale-green shade that haunts their necklaces when they’re at their weakest. The color comes to her in her dreams, her nightmares, follows her when she shuts her eyes. Sometimes when it’s just her in the infirmary she stands in the center of the room and shuts her eyes, takes a minute to clasp one hand around her necklace, curve her thumb over its smooth edges, her other hand rising to rest over her stomach. Sometimes at her touch one of her babies will kick in response, and as sickness is all around her she’s reminded of what she’s fighting for--why she does what she does every single day. It’s for them. </p>
<p>It’s for Wyatt and Willa. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Walt’s grandmother passes away. </p>
<p>They bury her along with the others- in a quiet meadow in the back of their territory, untouched by the scent of the city that looms so closely now, untouched by the air that reeks of human pollution.</p>
<p>There are five graves in total now. Winry visits each of them every day, twists the meadow’s abundant wildflowers together in her tired hands and rests them over each stone, shuts her eyes as she drops to one knee, tilts her head back to the sky. </p>
<p><em> Give them peace, </em> she prays to no one, <em> don’t let them die for nothing.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The time comes and Winry wakes up screaming, her body rampaging against her as she shifts upward, pain filling her as she’s pushed back onto her bed but no, there’s work to be done, she can’t just stop-</p>
<p>Labor is hours, long, <em> pain-filled </em>hours of howling, crying as she clutches her hand in the hand of her fellow caretakers. She swings her hand through the air, wanting Walt but finding empty air instead. </p>
<p>She calls for him, but she doesn’t get an answer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he finally comes, Winona--her best friend is like a sister to her, and she’ll really, <em> really </em> never be able to thank her enough--is holding Willa and Winry is holding Wyatt, her son, her <em> son.  </em></p>
<p>Walt enters, his shoulders still carrying the familiar, palpable weight of his alpha responsibilities, but when he sees Wyatt and Willa everything in him softens. His shoulders fall, his eyes grow glassy with...something Winry can’t quite pin down. She thinks she sees tears forming, but he blinks them away before they ever have a chance to fall. </p>
<p>“Willa,” he whispers hoarsely, accepting the baby from Winona with a deep sigh. “She’s beautiful.” He locks eyes with Winry. She nods, her throat so tight that she can’t speak what she wants to say, and she wants to say so much, <em> so much.  </em></p>
<p>
  <em> We did it, see? We made it- there is hope. It’s them--Willa and Wyatt. They are the strength our pack needs.  </em>
</p>
<p>Instead she smiles, even as Willa starts crying and Wyatt wakes up and follows suit, filling their little room with so much noise that she’s not sure the entire pack could compete. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wyatt and Willa.</p>
<p>Willa and Wyatt. </p>
<p><em> Her children. </em> They’re together at last, a perfect family, and Winry is a lot of things--sad, exhausted, aching--but most of all she’s <em> whole.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nothing lasts forever--even happiness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By wintertime, they’ve run out of room in the meadow. All but six of their elders remain. </p>
<p>Winona is gone. </p>
<p>Willa and Wyatt are oblivious to it all. </p>
<p>And they should be--Winry wishes, wishes with everything in her, that she could wrap them up and hide them from everything bad in the world, but the truth is that things are grim and there’s so much darkness around them that there’s no way to hide it all. </p>
<p>She’d do anything to make sure they’ll live to see the day when they don’t have to hide in the forest, that they’ll live to feel the power of a fully-charged moonstone, but she can’t promise them anything and even though she’d <em> give her life </em>in exchange she can’t and that’s what keeps her up at night, keeps her restless, that above anything else- even the empty side of the bed she shares with Walt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Most nights, Willa wakes Winry up with her crying, and whenever Willa starts crying Wyatt follows. The two of them are so loud they wake up the entire den, but nobody complains. They only tried that once--Winry had protested, and Walt had threatened to exile anyone that said a word. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A little over a year passes and Willa and Wyatt grow before Winry’s very eyes. Willa’s the first to take her first steps, and, true to form, she’s running before they know it. Willa amuses everyone else- she’s always tumbling into things, always dodging between the legs of anyone that’s nearby. </p>
<p>The other were-pups take to her quickly, and under Winry’s watchful gaze, they make sure that Willa doesn’t go far, stays within the boundaries of the den where the adults can watch their games. </p>
<p>Wyatt stays with her. She doesn’t worry over it- he’s quieter than Willa, after all, and he watches the others play but he’s content to sit by and sit still as she works at tying bandages together.</p>
<p><em> Walt </em>worries. He doesn’t quite say it out loud, but Winry can see it in his eyes--see it in the way his gaze lingers over Wyatt before he runs into the center of the den to play with Willa and the other children. </p>
<p>Wyatt is smart, though, and even though it’s another few months before he takes his first steps, and even though it’s months after that when he’s stable enough to toddle after Willa, Winry knows he’s smart. He’s quiet, he’s always watching--mostly Willa, but everyone else too--and Willa may be loud but Wyatt’s a force to be reckoned with--or will be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first time Willa and Wyatt have a fight that gets them hurt, they’re eight years old. </p>
<p>Winry’s busy in the infirmary when it happens- Willow, one of the packs’ best hunters, is pregnant and struggling with the lazy days that come from being forced off the hunting rotation-- forced, Winry knows, because Willow is willy and stubborn, and if anyone would refuse being asked to take time off, it’s her. </p>
<p>She’s discussing things with Willow when Wendal enters, breathless. He doubles over and pauses for a second, gasping in air, before he straightens and blurts out a quick, “Wyatt and Willa are fighting outside- Wyatt’s hurt, Winry.” </p>
<p>“<em> What? </em> Why didn’t you stop them?” Winry demands, her brows furrowing.</p>
<p>“I didn’t actually see,” Wendal says, “Wendy came and told me. She and the other kids were playing, apparently Wyatt tried to join and…”</p>
<p>“They started fighting.” </p>
<p>Wendal nods. </p>
<p>Winry grimaces. “Have you told Walt?” she asks, swiftly grabbing a spare roll of bandages as she rushes past Wendal. </p>
<p>The boy blanches, his eyes going wide at the thought. “N-no…” </p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it then,” Winry says. Any other moment and she’d laugh at his fear--Walt may be the alpha and he’s a lot of things but <em> scary </em>isn’t one of them, especially to members of his pack--but now isn’t the time. </p>
<p>She runs outside, looks around frantically, stops and screams <em> “Willa!” </em>when she sees nothing, hears nothing. </p>
<p>The entire forest goes quiet--no birds chirping, not even a breeze in the pines--and Winry strains her ears. Softly, deep in the forest--<em> way beyond where they’re supposed to stay-- </em>she hears a pained yelp. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Wyatt </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a growl, Winry runs through the trees. The closer she gets, the better she can hear Wyatt and Willa, both of them crying out in pain and frustration as they-</p>
<p>Wyatt is bleeding. </p>
<p>They haven’t noticed her yet, and Winry <em> freezes </em>as she stops just short of the little clearing where Wyatt and Willa are fighting. Willa’s circling Wyatt with her hands raised, her claws extended, her lip curled back into a snarl that’s far too terrifying for someone her age and her size. </p>
<p>“You’re still not doing it, Wyatt!” She exclaims with a growl. </p>
<p>Wyatt yelps. “I’m sorry!” He cries out, turning to avoid Willa’s claws. “I’m <em> trying!” </em></p>
<p>“Try harder!” Willa screams. </p>
<p>Wyatt screams too--frustrated, though, high-pitched and angry. “I can’t!” He turns again, a ray of sunlight catching his face as he swivels behind a tree, again avoiding Willa’s hand. </p>
<p>He’s bleeding. </p>
<p>He’s <em> bleeding.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>This has gone on long enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Willa.” She strides forward, her shoulders square and her whole body tense. “What on <em> earth </em>do you think you’re doing?” </p>
<p>“He started it,” Willa snaps, glaring at Wyatt. “He wouldn’t leave.”</p>
<p>“I was just trying to play with you,” Wyatt protests softly, but his eyes are still bright with anger, and even as Winry walks forward, steps protectively in front of him, he’s at her arm, growling quietly. </p>
<p>He’s furious- easy-going spirit broken, bruised, and all at Willa’s hands. </p>
<p>Winry hides her wince, but there’s a scream building in her throat. She should have done something. She should have seen this coming. She’s let Willa’s dominance prevail and now Wyatt’s hurt-</p>
<p>“Let’s go.” She turns around, grabs Wyatt’s shoulder, takes a step back then turns to make sure Willa’s following. She is. Begrudgingly, though- her dark eyes are narrow as she trudges behind them, flash gold as she glares at a deep gash in a nearby tree. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We need to talk.” </p>
<p>Winry doesn’t go into the elder’s room much--it’s musty and old and smells like sweat and wet paper--but today she’s got a good reason and the others must sense it, because the moment she enters they practically run out of the room, leaving her and Walt alone. </p>
<p>Walt’s eyes flick over her. He clenches his jaw, leans against the table and crosses his arms as he shifts into his listening position, ready for whatever lecture she’s about to give. </p>
<p>“Willa got into a fight today,” Winry says, her gaze fixed on Walt. </p>
<p>Her husband has the <em> nerve </em> to <em> smirk. </em>“Did she win?”</p>
<p>“...she got into a fight with <em> Wyatt, </em>” Winry finishes, and Walt’s smirk vanishes in an instant. “Walt, we need to say something.”</p>
<p>Walt swallows. “Did she- did she hurt him?” </p>
<p>“It’s a small cut,” Winry nods. “He’s in the infirmary, resting.” </p>
<p>“And Willa?” </p>
<p>“In her room.” Winry presses her lips together, shakes her head. “Walt, we need to talk to her.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do it.” </p>
<p><em> “We </em>need to talk to her,” Winry repeats with a soft growl, “together.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And they do. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Willa is...young but complicated, a prideful thing--she gets that from Walt, Winry notes with a sigh--and to her strength is best shown through action, something Wyatt is...slower to do. </p>
<p>Wyatt is different- calmer than Willa, and kinder, though his temper is short. <em> That </em>he shares with Willa, and Winry would be lying if she didn’t claim she was to blame. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Days turn into weeks and Winry watches, waiting on her children to fight again, to butt heads but they don’t, and as months turn into years Willa’s eyes lose their pitying look whenever they fall on Wyatt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Willa and Wyatt are thirteen years old when Winry’s moonstone necklace flashes green for the first time. </p>
<p>They’re with her when it happens--everything freezes and one moment Winry is laughing at Wyatt’s impression of his father and she and Willa are both giggling--Willa’s grinning, a rare thing that splits her entire face and makes it bright as the stars themselves--and then her necklace flares and a weird ringing sounds in her ears and suddenly she’s looking at the ground and she’s gasping, she can’t <em> breathe. </em></p>
<p>“Mom?” Wyatt’s voice trembles. He bends down, his hand on her shoulder, and pulls her upward, Willa on her other side. Both of them are staring, but Wyatt’s eyes are watering- he’s perceptive. He knows what it means.<br/>
And Willa does too, she’s certain, but as she looks into both of their eyes, Willa is just...staring, distant, silent, <em> gone.  </em></p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she whispers to them both, still breathless. Her chest hurts. Her eyes water. She struggles to her feet with Wyatt at her side, but Willa just sits down on the ledge and stares at the floor, her head in her hands, and there’s nothing Winry can do but pray that they’ll have the strength to move on. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’ve already had to do it once. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Winry visits the meadow hours later. It’s a longer walk than normal, and that worries her- she keeps stopping, she’s <em> so tired </em>but she’s never seen anyone else fade so quickly and feels like her time is running out, like sand slipping through her fingers. </p>
<p>She gets to the meadow and she navigates her way around the stones slowly, placing her palms on each of them. The older stones radiate heat the way the sun itself radiates light-- they’re beacons, each and every one of them, bursting with energy. But they’re nothing like what they were <em> before.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Walt faded fast too. </p>
<p>She gets to his stone and she can’t take it anymore- she falls to the ground, her knees sticking to the dirt, and bends over his stone, her body shaking as she doubles over with the force of her sobs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She wishes she could stretch her last moments into weeks, months, maybe, but the truth is that in days she doesn’t have the strength to get out of her bed and she’s stuck inside instead.</p>
<p>Wyatt visits every day, sometimes stays for hours on end. </p>
<p>Willa visits twice. </p>
<p>Winry’s heart aches when she thinks about Willa- how her daughter tries to be so strong and how she succeeds in the eyes of everyone but herself, how she struggles to hold back her tears but how Winry can tell she’s desperate in the way her gaze lingers, in how her eyes pinch at the corners and water before she blinks the tears away. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s losing pieces of herself, more and more snapping off and fading with every passing day. </p>
<p>And then-</p>
<p>Nothing.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two: Alpha, Beta</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>they've fought each other before, but not like this.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“She’s gone.” </p><p>Willa doesn’t hear him. Or at least- she’s pretending like she can’t hear him. Wyatt’s never sure. </p><p>“She’s gone,” he says again, takes another step toward Willa. When she doesn’t answer, he presses a hand lightly against her shoulder and <em> that </em> does it- Willa springs upward and whirls around on him, her eyes glowing gold. </p><p>“I <em> know, </em> Wyatt,” she snarls, her lip curling. He stares at her, his expression blank, but that only makes it worse. Not that anything would make it <em> better </em>- the fact that he’s standing here is all Willa needs to be angry, usually. </p><p>“She-” </p><p>“‘She’s gone,’” Willa mocks him, “I can’t just stop being- Wyatt, I know it’s been a year. You don’t have to remind me.” </p><p>Wyatt blinks. His stomach twists, and his heart stutters in his chest like it always does whenever someone mentions their mother. “I was talking about Wilmina, actually,” he mumbles, kicking at a loose rock on the ground. “But thanks for the reminder.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilmina, a former member of their pack, left ages ago to go to school outside the forest. She’s the only one who knows anything about the medicine they use outside the forest, but even she can’t help all the wolves that are sick, fading. </p><p>They used to be stricter about those things-- he remembers hearing people talk about the wolves that chose to leave and go make lives for themselves outside of their pack, but things are different now that there’s no alpha and the pack has changed because of it. </p><p>It’s not a bad thing. He likes meeting new people. </p><p>Willa, on the other hand…</p><p>“Is Wren okay?” Willa sweeps one leg over the bench and steps up beside Wyatt. “She seemed pretty…” <em> Sick, </em>Wyatt hears in her tone. </p><p>He presses his lips together. “She’s okay. Wilmina didn’t know what to do about the necklaces, though.” </p><p>“There’s nothing we <em> can </em>do,” Willa snorts, tossing her curls over her shoulder. </p><p>It’s a losing fight, but- “That’s not true,” Wyatt says, “the Great Alpha-” </p><p>“Doesn’t exist.” Willa glares at him. “I don’t care what you say, Wyatt.” </p><p>Big surprise there- <em> not.  </em></p><p>Wyatt starts to say something else, but Willa sweeps past him, a harsh laugh leaving her as she strides forward. </p><p>“And don’t you dare use your soulmark as an excuse,” she says, “the Great Alpha doesn’t exist.” </p><p>“My mark is <em> white, </em>” Wyatt grumbles, “what else could it mean?” </p><p>Willa’s not far, but she ignores him anyway, and he walks back to the den, grateful for the silence as he follows behind her.</p><p> </p><p>He hates it when Wila brings up his mark. </p><p>His father had always hidden his, covered it up by a long-sleeve shirt that went down to his wrists. His mother hadn’t hidden hers, but she hadn’t talked about it either- the soulbond was such a common thing to his parents that they hadn’t thought to elaborate on it when they’d noticed Wyatt’s mark for the first time. </p><p>He’d learned later just how important the soulmark actually is, and now he’s stuck with the memory of what it <em> was-- </em>something his parents had. </p><p>Parents. </p><p>Something he doesn’t have anymore. </p><p>Silently, a tired breath hissing slowly through his teeth, Wyatt unfolds his rolled-up sleeve and hides his mark. He’s stopped trying to <em> ignore it-- </em>it flashes without his consent sometimes, and sometimes he really can pretend it isn’t there--but not seeing it helps him cope in a way he can’t explain. </p><p>He’s guilty. The soulmark is important in a way he knows instinctively but can’t put to words. Words, he’s learned, are the only thing that could possibly bring Willa to his side--not just words but <em> proof- </em>evidence. Everything he doesn’t have. </p><p> </p><p>He walks back into the den and doesn’t say a word to Willa, doesn’t even make eye contact with her, just walks quietly down the hallway that leads to the boys’ room and falls into his bed. </p><p>The den still smells like Wilmina- smells like human, even though that’s odd and Wilmina is most definitely a werewolf. </p><p>He shuts his eyes bit then- </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Shouldn’t have let her in here, what if she brings attention to us? What if the humans find us?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What could they possibly do? We already lost our moonstone.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, because they took it!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>These sorts of arguments have been happening for a year now. </p><p>And on one hand- Wyatt can see the point of them. A year ago, when his mother was still alive, she’d stood in for his father, had led the pack as alpha even though they all knew she didn’t like it. The pack hadn’t had any other prospects at the time, so it had been left to her, and she’d done it. She hadn’t complained. </p><p>Once she got sick, though, things got harder. </p><p>The fights started out as small misunderstandings, different people bickering on their different views on how things should be done. But Wyatt’s mother had led how Walt had- with a firm hand, her heart guiding her in every decision. </p><p>And then she’d passed away. </p><p>And the fights in the pack had exploded into fights that echoed down every hall, encompassed members of almost every age. Some of them were too little to understand, but Wyatt wasn’t- isn’t. He knows what’s going on for real--without his parents, the whole pack is falling apart. </p><p> </p><p>They need a new alpha. </p><p>Except...that’s a debate too. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t get what all the fuss is about,” Wynter mumbles around a mouthful of berries. “If we just pick another alpha-”</p><p>“It’s not that easy.” Willa’s around the corner and Wyatt drops his voice, ducks over as she walks by. “There’s no one good enough to lead.”</p><p>Wynter tilts her head. “What about-” </p><p>“You’re not getting it, Wynter,” Wyatt snorts, “there’s no one. They’re all sick.” </p><p>Wynter stares at the floor. She swallows, then stares up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Oh.”</p><p>She’s quiet after that. Wyatt throws a berry at her--it bounces off her forehead and rolls on the floor and underneath the bench they’re sitting on--but she’s quiet even as he points out the blue mark now on her temple. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he tells her, but she stares at him with a petrified expression then gets up and walks away. “Wynter-” </p><p>“What did you do now, Wyatt?”</p><p>Willa. </p><p>He takes a second to gauge her tone- lilting, cheerful. She’s over earlier, then. Her temper’s so fast it blindsides him sometimes, gets him in trouble in others because he’s waiting for something that never arrives. Willa might be his sister, but he still can’t read her. It makes living with her… interesting. </p><p>“Don’t worry about Wynter,” Willa tells him. She sits down next to him and immediately takes a handful of berries from his bowl. He scowls at her, but she doesn’t even look at him. </p><p>“I’m always worried about Wynter,” Wyatt mumbles, “I’m always worried about everyone.” </p><p>Willa stares at him. “You worry too much.” </p><p>“You don’t worry enough,” he shoots back, stands and snatches the bowl from Willa’s hands when he can sense a scorching response on her lips. </p><p>Willa doesn’t get the chance to say anything else though, because just as Wyatt swivels to duck past the bench and head out into the hall--the last thing he wants is another fight--one walks into the room. </p><p>Wilbur is a year older than Wyatt and Willa are, but he’s taller than Wyatt will ever be and his temper is fierce enough to match both Willa’s and Wyatt’s <em> combined. </em>He’s strong and fast and a good tracker. He’s perfect- has all the qualities that a good werewolf should. </p><p> </p><p>Wyatt hates him. </p><p> </p><p><em>“You’re too soft, Wyatt,” his father used to tell him,</em> <em>“if you really tried, you could be just like all the other wolves. You could be like Willa- and Wilbur.” </em></p><p>Wilbur was the son his father wanted. Wilbur was everything his father thought Wyatt should be. Wilbur is everything Wyatt isn’t.</p><p>Wilbur is-</p><p>“I’m gonna be alpha,” Wilbur says, and Wyatt can <em> feel </em>Willa vibrate in place beside him, feel her tense as sparks roil within her, igniting her too-short temper into a raging flame. </p><p>“Not if I can help it,” his sister snarls, stepping forward. She has to look up to glare at Wilbur properly, a fact Wyatt notices as he slowly slips behind Willa- anything avoid Wilbur’s attention. “I’m going to be alpha, Wilbur,” Willa continues, so confidently Wyatt almost believes her. Wilbur...is less than convinced. </p><p>“You’re too young,” he says, “and too inexperienced.”</p><p>Willa’s lip curls. “You’re only a year older than us,” she snorts. “And besides- I’m the best hunter in the pack.” </p><p>“No you’re not! You got lost in the trails the other day-”</p><p>“It was raining! I couldn’t see!”</p><p>“You’re not good enough to be the alpha, Willa,” Wilbur snaps. The atmosphere in the room shifts, and Wyatt steps backward again as Willa rushes forward, her hand raised to show her claws. </p><p>A challenge. They’re going to fight and someone needs to get the grown-ups and really, Wyatt just needs to get <em> out of here.  </em></p><p>“<em> I am good enough!” </em>Willa roars, her voice breaking, her entire body trembling as she waits for Wilbur to answer her challenge. “Wyatt, tell him!”</p><p>Wyatt freezes. </p><p>Willa’s good at everything she does, always has been. So why can’t he come up with something to say, something to convince Wilbur that Willa’s the perfect choice? Why can’t he-</p><p>“He’s scared!” Wilbur barks out a wheezing laugh. “Silly pup-”</p><p>“‘M not a pup,” Wyatt snaps, his voice cracking. </p><p>Wilbur laughs even harder. “<em> ‘I’m not a pup,’” </em> he mocks, cackling. “Stars, Wyatt, you’re so stupid. Always hiding behind Willa.” </p><p>“I’m not…” Wyatt’s shaking now, but even as he tries to keep his voice level it cracks against his will. “I’m not hiding.” </p><p>“He’s right, Wyatt,” Willa says softly, “you never fight back.” </p><p>
  <em> Fight? Fight back? They’re the stupid ones- can’t they see there’s nothing here worth fighting for? Nothing that important?  </em>
</p><p>“Sorry,” he mumbles, his face flaming. </p><p>Willa cocks her head toward him, her eyes flashing. “Don’t be sorry. Be better.” </p><p> </p><p>He ducks out of the room then, leaves Wilbur and Willa to fight their battle alone. </p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, when the den’s suddenly full of the sound of the adults pulling them apart, Wyatt can hear Willa growling, howling victoriously, and he’s not surprised. </p><p>He just-</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t be sorry. Be better.”  </em>
</p><p>He’s…</p><p>
  <em> “You’re too soft, Wyatt-” </em>
</p><p>He’s not. </p><p>He’s <em> not.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Right?</p><p> </p><p>His fear worms its way into his chest and sparks against his insides, turns him hot and shaky as he runs his hand against the wall. His claws scrape against the stone but he doesn’t care- he digs harder, squeezes his eyes shut, forces his temper away away away as he enters the main room. </p><p>It’s raining outside. The den is full of life and light and laughter. </p><p>It always amazes him the fact that everyone could be so happy with everything that’s going on. But there are still some who haven’t been touched by the dying moonstones, and that, <em> that </em>is something that Wyatt envies every single day. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur and Willa aren’t allowed in the same room for a few days after that, and there are a few near-misses but the adults guide them away from each other, which honestly doesn’t take much from Wilbur, he still has the scar on his arm from their fight. </p><p>Shallow wounds like that didn’t use to leave scars, according to the elders. There was a time when all their wounds healed quickly, when they didn’t have badges that told of every victory and every loss. </p><p> </p><p>Wyatt doesn’t remember those days, but it sounds nice.</p><p> </p><p>“Wyatt,” Willa says, “do you really not think I’d make a good alpha?” </p><p>“Of course you’d make a good alpha,” Wyatt says smoothly, “I just…” He trails off. He’s not sure where he was gonna go with that, but Willa’s interest is piqued and he can see it out of the corner of his eye, see her bending forward to glare at him. </p><p>“Just what?” She asks, and he groans. </p><p>“Nothing.” </p><p>She hums. “Liar.” </p><p>“Seriously, Willa,” he complains, leaning back to kick at the rocks beneath his feet. “It’s nothing, I swear.” </p><p>Willa hums again, louder this time, and as the wind gusts around them Wyatt hears the first few notes of the lullaby their mother used to sing them at night and he smiles, hums along. </p><p>Willa stops. </p><p>Wyatt sits in awkward silence. </p><p> </p><p>“When I’m alpha,” Willa says, “I want you to be my beta.” </p><p>Wyatt nearly chokes. “<em> Why? </em>”</p><p>A beat. </p><p>“Because,” Willa says, “I dunno, we just...fit. Right?” </p><p>Right? After everything she’s said?</p><p>“Wyatt?” </p><p>“Right,” he mumbles, stands up. “Yeah, whatever you say, Willa.” </p><p>“You’re mad at me.” Willa stands up too, faces him. “What did I say?”</p><p><em> So much, </em>Wyatt thinks, but he just shrugs in response and backs away from her, faces the path back to the den. </p><p>“<em> Wyatt, </em>” Willa pleads, “what’s wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing, Willa.” Wyatt turns back to her, bites his lip, and exhales. “We’re twins.” </p><p>“Uh, yeah?”</p><p>“Dad was the alpha.” </p><p>“Gee, Wyatt, you’re so smart.”</p><p>“So...doesn’t that mean I could be the alpha too?” </p><p>Willa stares at him. </p><p>There’s no anger in her expression, which...is a good thing, he guesses, but she makes him nervous anyway and he shuffles his foot against the gravel as he waits for her to respond. </p><p>She doesn’t. </p><p>Seconds tick by. </p><p>“You can’t be alpha, Wyatt.” </p><p>“Why <em> not? </em>” </p><p>She’s still staring at him, her eyes focused on his. He doesn’t move. He refuses. <em> For once in his life, </em>he refuses to back down. </p><p>“Because you’re you,” Willa says simply, “you’re soft. Too...nice.” She shudders, her eyes brightening in <em> amusement. </em> She thinks this is <em> funny.  </em></p><p>Leaves and branches hiss underneath his feet as he whirls around with his back to Willa, a growl rumbling through his chest. </p><p>Willa scoffs. “<em> Now </em>you’re mad?” </p><p>“I’m always second place,” Wyatt says. </p><p>“Well yeah-”</p><p>“<em> No, </em> Willa-” Wyatt breathes in deep, let’s his fists clench and unclench slowly as he struggles to reign in the anger that’s vibrating in his chest. “You never even gave me a choice. I’ve <em> always </em>been second to you. You’ve always had to be better.” </p><p>“I am better,” Willa says, softly, like she’s afraid of how Wyatt will react--except she’s no, he knows, she’s not afraid of anything and especially not him. </p><p>“You’re not,” Wyatt snaps back, “you’re just like- you think I’m weak. You think I’m a coward.” </p><p>“You’re scared all the time-”</p><p>“<em> Because of you!” </em> He’s screaming now, the words ripping from his throat as he cries out above the wind. “You and Dad and everyone else, you always told me I was weak but I’m <em> not. </em>I’m just… not like you. I don’t like fighting. I don’t-”</p><p>“Wyatt, sometimes you have to fight for what you want,” Willa says. </p><p>Wyatt stops. Blinks. </p><p>“A real alpha would know that. A real alpha does what they know is best for the pack.” </p><p>“Fighting doesn’t help anyone,” Wyatt argues. </p><p>Willa raises an eyebrow. “It does if you’re protecting someone.” </p><p>“And who’re you protecting?”</p><p>“Right now? Myself.” </p><p>Wyatt snorts. “I can become the alpha and I’ll prove it.” </p><p>“How?” </p><p>“We’ll fight,” Wyatt says, he’ll play her game if it’s the only way to win. “You and me, in the den. In front of the whole pack. We’ll fight and the first one to get knocked out loses.” </p><p>Willa’s lip curls. “You want to lose in front of the whole pack?” </p><p>“I’m gonna win,” Wyatt shakes his head. “And you’ll be <em> my </em>beta.” </p><p>He wants a reaction and he gets it- Willa’s eyes flash gold as she takes in his words. She offers her hand and he grabs it, both of them breathing hard, both of them still furious. </p><p>“Challenge accepted,” she says,  “name the time and place.” </p><p>“I’ll find you,” Wyatt says. </p><p>She snorts. “I’ll be ready.” </p><p>He knows she will be. <em> That’s </em>not what he’s worried about. </p><p>Will <em> he </em>be ready? </p><p> </p><p>“Something’s different about you, Wyatt,” Wendal says as Wyatt bends to dust off the books by his bed. “You’re quiet today.” </p><p>“I’m fine,” Wyatt says, opening the book on the top of the pile to unfold a bent-over corner. </p><p>“Penny for your thoughts?” Wendal asks after a moment. </p><p>Wyatt smirks. “You don’t have any pennies.”</p><p>“Work with me here, kid,” the older wolf grumbles, “I’m just trying to help.” He sits up, grunts as he does, his face working to keep a neutral expression but Wyatt sees the ghostly wince that flickers across his lips. </p><p>Wyatt stiffens. Wendal’s gaze holds him to the spot and he can’t help but nod as he sits down, hesitant to speak. </p><p>“This...wouldn’t happen to have to do with the fight Willa and Wilbur got into a few days ago, would it?” Wendal asks, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>Wyatt blinks. </p><p>“I know she’s hard on you, Wyatt,” Wendal snorts. “You don’t have to hide it.” </p><p>“She wants to be alpha,” Wyatt mutters.</p><p>Wendal nods. “And that...bothers you?”</p><p>“I could be alpha if I wanted,” Wyatt whispers, scowls. He doesn’t meet Wendal’s gaze, too afraid he’ll find the same shell-shocked look Willa gave him before. </p><p>“You’re trying to beat your sister,” Wendal says. </p><p>“For once,” Wyatt grumps. He finally gets up the courage to look at Wendal and is surprised to find him nodding, his eyes on the sheets covering his hands. He shifts, again hides his pain, and sits forward to look right at him. </p><p>“If you’re going to try to be alpha,” he says, “you’re going to need a better reason than just beating Willa. Alpha’s a long commitment, kid- I saw what it did to Walt, what it did to your mother.” </p><p>“My mother?” </p><p>“She never saw your father. He was always with the elders, trying to map out all the places they’d looked for the moonstone or dealing with other pack matters.” He shrugs. “I was too young to really want to pay attention at the time. But Winry...Winry hated what being alpha did to Walt.”</p><p>Wyatt bites his lip. “Being alpha is <em> important,” </em>he says, “and Willa-”</p><p>“Wyatt, you’re every bit as capable of being alpha as your sister,” Wendal interjects. “But being alpha grates on a person- it drains them and asks them to make tough decisions. Look inside yourself- do you really think you’d be able to make the tough calls when they come?” </p><p>“You’re just like everyone else,” Wyatt snaps, “you’re trying to protect me. You think I’m too weak too, don’t you?” </p><p>“I never said anything like that-”</p><p>But Wyatt storms out of the room, his temper flaring, a growl rumbling through him as he maneuvers through the hall to the elders’ den where Willa’s no doubt consorting with the old wolves that remain, trying to track the moonstone. </p><p>Anger is courage. Anger is courage. He can do this. He can <em> fight.  </em></p><p>“Willa,” he growls, barging into the room, “are you ready?” </p><p>“Always, brother,” she answers in turn, cool-eyed gaze flicking toward him. “Are you?” </p><p> </p><p>It takes half an hour for them to gather what remains of the pack into the main room. The adults sit down on whatever ledges are available. The kids sit on the floor. The ones Wyatt’s age mill about the room, taking away the things that could get in the way of their fight. </p><p>Wyatt waits on the opposite side of Willa, watching as everyone settles. He’s shaking. He’s doing this, really doing this. Everything’s already hurting and he’s cold and he’s never been so anxious about anything in his entire life--fight <em> Willa </em> ? is he <em> insane </em>? </p><p>“Everyone quiet!” A harsh voice--Wayde, Wyatt knows, one of Willa’s friends--screams above the noise. “Willa, you ready?” </p><p>Willa nods. </p><p>Wayde looks at Wyatt. “Good luck,” he sneers before ducking underneath one of the railings to sit on the ledge beside his parents. </p><p>“First one to get knocked out loses, right?” Willa tilts her head. “Your rules, Wyatt.” </p><p>“My rules,” Wyatt agrees with a nod. He steps into the center of the room, flinches as Willa snarls at him, her hands raised and her claws extended outward in glinting dark points. </p><p>“He’s scared already!” One of Willa’s friends calls out with a laugh. “Go Willa!”</p><p>They think this is a game. </p><p>They think this is a <em> game </em>and they think he’s going to lose. </p><p>They think he’s soft. He’s <em> not.  </em></p><p>And as Willa stares at him, her lip curling from a snarl to a sneer, Wyatt raises his hands and growls at her, his eyes flashing, mirroring her own golden eyes. </p><p>He can do this. He can win. </p><p> </p><p>Willa circles him and watches him carefully, her eyes flashing in the firelight as she waits. </p><p>He circles too. She’ll get impatient soon enough, make the first move. </p><p>His waiting works- with a furious snarl, Willa lurches forward with her left hand raised, her claws snapping down toward his bare arm as she swerves to avoid his arm. One of her claws sinks into his shoulder as they maneuver past each other, drawing blood. </p><p>He hisses. </p><p>The whole room goes quiet. </p><p>“You didn’t think I was gonna go easy on you, did you?” Willa laughs, shaking her wrist. “C’mon, Wyatt. Get serious.”</p><p>“I am serious,” Wyatt scoffs, but the truth is that he’s already panting, his shoulder stings, and he’s already regretting his decision to fight. </p><p>Blood trickles down his arm. He wipes it away, rubs his hand on his pants, and shifts his stance again, ready to defend, ready but not ready enough because Willa comes quickly, her eyes blazing as she shoves toward him with one hand raised toward his bleeding shoulder and the other aimed at his chest. </p><p>Her claws slice through his shirt. The wound is shallow, but it stings and his eyes start to water. In the second it takes to blink away the tears, Willa is after him again, gets one hit in, two, three. He hits the ground, scoots over the stone floor, comes up snarling, a furious growl ripping through him as anger sets in. His movements are fast, sharp, ruthless as he rushes toward Willa, ducks underneath her arm and comes up on at her back, <em> slices </em>with his left hand and shoves her forward with his right, clawing at whatever he can hit. </p><p>Willa screams. </p><p>Wyatt <em> panics.  </em></p><p>Everyone in the room gasps. </p><p>Willa flails, balances herself with one knee on the floor, and comes at him again.</p><p>They’re both panting. </p><p>They’ve fought before, but not like <em> this.  </em></p><p>The light hits Willa’s face just right and out of nowhere the realization that her face is bleeding strikes him like knife to the heart. </p><p>He’d ask if she was okay--wants to, is she?--but she’s far too angry and far too focused to listen to anything he’d say. </p><p>She comes toward him again and he manages to dodge her, but then they turn turn turn and out of the corner of eye, something distracts him. </p><p>A flash of green. </p><p>“Willa,” he bursts out, but the second he speaks his vision is filled with the sheen of crimson-glistening claws and his body turns electric, pain crackling at the edges of his whole being as he topples to the ground, dizzy, the world spinning. </p><p>“Wendal!” Someone screams, and a dozen gasps rise up from their audience. Willa doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she doesn’t care. Wyatt-</p><p>Wyatt can’t move. </p><p>He can’t move, even as Willa hits him again and he topples to the ground. He can’t move, because even as he’s falling his eyes are locked on Wendal, Wendal’s lifeless body and Wendal’s glassy eyes, Wendal’s necklace flashing jade as he falls, the <em> only thing he has left of his parents- </em></p><p>“Fight back, Wyatt,” Willa snarls in his ear. </p><p>Wyatt can’t speak. His jaw is locked in place, his mouth frozen in an open ‘O’. </p><p>“Get up, Wyatt,” Willa says, furious. “<em> You </em>wanted this.”</p><p>“Wendal,” Wyatt whispers, the word sucking him dry of whatever energy he’s got left. </p><p>The word doesn’t do a thing to Willa. “Focus.” </p><p>“He’s gone,” someone whispers, and Willa just keeps standing there, Wyatt wonders if he’s the only one that heard it, if the only one that notices is <em> him.  </em></p><p>“Willa, stop,” someone says--probably Willow, he can’t tell anymore, everything’s hazy and dark and <em> Wendal-  </em></p><p>“Wendal?” Willa’s eyes widen, dim, turn bright and cold and clear for the first time since their fight started. Everything is blurry but Wyatt <em> knows knows knows </em>he doesn’t miss the fact that there are tears in Willa’s eyes. </p><p>“He’s gone.” A hazy shape walks up and puts a hand on Willa’s shoulder, holds her as she slumps backward. “Wyatt-”</p><p>But he stops listening. </p><p>He stops-</p><p>He stops. </p><p>Everything goes black. </p><p> </p><p>It’s raining. </p><p>It wasn’t raining earlier. </p><p>The world is covered in silvery mist as Wyatt opens his eyes, sits up and looks around. He’s not in the den- there are trees everywhere, and not the tall pines that grace every inch of their territory- thin, skinny things, with branches that stop lo toward the ground, droplets of water dangling off their tips.</p><p>He stands up slowly, shakes his arm and tugs at his shirt only to find his skin unmarked, his shirt clean and whole. He blinks. Something’s up- something is <em> wrong.  </em></p><p>“Wyatt.” </p><p>Oh, stars. He’s <em> dead.  </em></p><p>“You’re dreaming, Wyatt,” says the voice of his mother. Wyatt turns, expecting to see nothing, and <em> gasps </em> when he finds his parents--real, shimmering like a ghost but <em> whole-- </em>and they’re holding their arms out to him and he runs toward them with tears running down his cheeks, gasps again when their arms--their warm arms, and his father still smells like the pine needles outside and his mother still smells like the world before it rains--and as is mother’s head dips down to brush against his hair he starts sobbing, real sobs that shake his chest and throb in his throat. </p><p>“Wyatt,” his mother croons, “<em> Wyatt, </em>my baby boy. Shhh, it’s alright.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, “Willa and I, we were fighting-”</p><p>“It’s alright, Wyatt,” she says again. He looks up and sees she’s crying too. “It’s alright.” </p><p>Wyatt breathes in deep, settles, exhales. Then he looks at his father. “Willa is going to be alpha,” he says, “I tried, but I lost. I’m sorry.” </p><p>His father stares at him, and for a second Wyatt’s afraid he’s going to be angry, but he just nods, a slow smile curling his lips. </p><p>“I’m proud of you, Wyatt.” He says. </p><p>Wyatt’s world <em> rocks. </em>“You are?” </p><p>“You’ve got heart,” his father continues, “compassion. Your strength is different than Willa’s- I’m sorry it took me so long to see that.” </p><p>Another sob builds in Wyatt’s throat, but he chokes it down. “I love you.” </p><p>“And we love you.” His mother says. “Now wake up- you have a lot of work to do.” </p><p>“Make sure to help her sister,” his father says, “tell her when she’s wrong. Don’t be afraid, Wyatt.” </p><p>And he is, so <em> so </em>afraid to let go of them but he does, and the moment his fingers let go of his parents’ shoulders the dream-world slips away and the world goes black again, soft gray hues tunneling in at the perimeter of his vision. </p><p> </p><p>He wakes up. </p><p>The first thing he sees is Willa. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” she says, and he doesn’t know how to respond for a second because the <em> second </em>thing he sees is the scratch that cuts in close to the corner of Willa’s right eye, the mark pinkish and raised at the edges. </p><p>“I did that,” he says, grimacing. </p><p>She snorts. “Yeah, you did. Hurts, too.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Don’t be,” she laughs, <em> laughs, </em> and her head tilts and Wyatt’s heart <em> stops </em>because the light catches Willa’s cheek just right and her alpha marking is perfect on her face, the lines etched over her cheekbone like they were made to sit there, like she was made for this. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t believe he ever tried to stop her. </p><p> </p><p>“Wilma said there’s enough charge in my moonstone that this-” she points to her wound- “should be healed in a few days.” </p><p>Wyatt nods, relieved.</p><p>“<em> This </em>isn’t going anywhere though.” Willa taps her alpha mark and grins. “No hard feelings?” </p><p>“...uh.” </p><p>“After all,” she continues, “I can’t have my beta holding a grudge against me.” </p><p>Oh, right. That.</p><p>Willa stares at him, her eyebrows knitting together as she watches him carefully. “You didn’t forget what I said, did you?” Her eyes widen. “We did...end up fighting after that…” </p><p>Wyatt snorts. “Yeah.”</p><p>“I’m glad you’re my brother, Wyatt.” </p><p>“<em> Huh?” </em></p><p>“When I-” Willa sighs, runs a hand through her curls, grasps a few stray strands when her fingers get caught. “I was wrong, before.” She murmurs. “Being the alpha doesn’t mean knowing when to fight, sometimes it means knowing when <em> not to, </em> and I- hey! <em> Wyatt- </em>” </p><p>He can’t help it, he’s laughing, Willa’s face is all screwed up like the apology’s sour-tasting on her tongue and she refuses to meet his eyes but she’s <em> saying sorry </em> and the last time he remembers her even trying to apologize they were <em> eight </em>. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he grins at her, “I just- yeah, I’ll be your beta. <em> Someone’s </em>gotta keep track of you.” </p><p>She flinches, and a thousand emotions flicker over her face before she settles on a smile, but when she does it’s bright and pure and happy, <em> happy </em> for the first time he’s seen her be in <em> ages </em>. </p><p> </p><p>They hug, but when they pull apart, she’s crying. </p><p>“Wendal’s gone,” Willa whispers, “we buried him this morning.” </p><p>Wyatt’s racing heart stutters, skips a beat as it thumps in his throat. “How long have I been out?”</p><p>“Just a night,” Willa says, “Wilma said you were dreaming.” </p><p>Wyatt nods, but he’s still thinking about Wendal, and Willa seems to sense it. She backs off, leans against the wall and stays there, silent. </p><p>“Almost all of the elders are gone,” Wyatt says. </p><p>Willa nods.</p><p>“And almost all the adults.” </p><p>“Is...there a point to this? Or are you just trying to be depressing?” </p><p>“What I’m <em> saying </em>is that we’re some of the only people left, Willa. That remember our parents.” </p><p>“Most of the kids are too young.” </p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>“We’re all that’s left of them.” </p><p>“<em> Stars, </em>Wyatt,” Willa snorts, “what’s gotten into you?” </p><p>Honestly? He doesn’t know. </p><p>And he could tell Willa that he dreamed of them, dreamed of their parents, but truth be told he’s not even sure his sister would believe him, not after the way she’s responded to things like his soulmark and the myths of the Great Alpha</p><p>“All ‘m saying is we have to do whatever it takes,” he says, “find the moonstone. Save the pack. Nobody else dies.” </p><p>It’s...a bold statement. He knows it, can see it in the shock on Willa’s face, but her surprise solidifies into the fierce determination and she nods along with him. “Okay.” </p><p>“Okay,” he says, sits up and groans as the very-real wounds as his shoulder and chest protest. “What’s next?” </p><p>Willa taps her mark again, her fingers stopping just below it as she stands up, hums. “You’re missing something?’ </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Your mark,” she says, and Wyatt’s heart flutters again. </p><p>“...right,” he says slowly. “Um.” His throat goes dry. “Are you...sure?” </p><p>“About picking you? Can’t imagine picking anyone else.” Willa stands up, snorts, and offers him her hand. “C’mon. Pack’s waiting.” </p><p>“Okay,” he says, and he stands up even though it hurts, even though he’s shaking, because even amidst all his fear and anxiety he’s <em> excited, </em>grateful. </p><p>Willa’s the alpha. </p><p>He’s the beta. </p><p>And if he’s honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way. </p><p> </p><p>The pack really is waiting for them, circled together in the same room where they fought. </p><p>Wilma’s ready with the paint as they walk up. Willa’s with him for the first few steps, but she ducks behind him as he approaches the healer, his palms sweaty as he clenches his fists, unclenches, breathes in deep and exhales. </p><p>“Don’t be nervous,” Wilma chuckles as she brings the brush to his cheek, “be <em> proud.”  </em></p><p>And he is. </p><p>Wilma’s hand is steady as she etches the beta marking on his cheek, steady as she finishes, and her <em> voice </em> is steady as she dips her head back and <em> howls </em>, a triumphant sound, one that grows stronger as the rest of the pack joins in. </p><p> </p><p>A wind blows through the den, howling along with them. </p><p>Wyatt catches the scent of pine needles and rain and he <em> knows- </em>he’s not alone, not really, his parents are here with him and it’s him and Willa against the world. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading! leave a kudos and a comment on your way out &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! Be sure to leave a kudos (and a comment, I live for those) before you head out! XD</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>